Get a Priest

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A man was struck by a bus on a busy street in New York City. He lied, dying on the sidewalk as a crowd of spectators gathered around.
“A priest! Somebody get me a priest!” the man gasped.
A policeman checked the crowd but found no priest, no minister, and no man of God of any kind.
“A PRIEST, PLEASE!” the dying man said again.
Then, out of the crowd, stepped a little old man of at least eighty years of age.
“Officer,” said the man, “I’m not a priest, but for fifty years now I’ve been living behind St. Mary’s Catholic Church on Third Avenue, and every night I’m listening to the Catholic litany. Maybe I can be of some comfort to this man.”
The policeman agreed and brought the old guy over to the dying man. He kneeled down, leaning over the injured, and said in a solemn voice, “B – 4. I – 19. N – 38. G – 54. O – 72.”

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